


All The King's Men

by hariboo



Category: Dollhouse
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-04
Updated: 2010-02-04
Packaged: 2017-10-07 00:53:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/59601
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hariboo/pseuds/hariboo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Every experiment has test subjects. Some don't quiet go as planned.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All The King's Men

_Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall,  
Humpty Dumpty had a great fall.  
All the king's horses,  
And all the king's men,  
Couldn't put Humpty together again_

But…

_What if Humpty didn't want to be put back "together" in the first place?_

 

(Everything has to start somewhere.

There has to be a beginning.)

 

*

 

Adelle closes the brown folder on her desk with a hard press of her hand, a decisive frown drawn on her face, and turns to Mr. Dominic. The frown is gone by the time she faces him. "I do not believe this will end up being a good idea", she confesses, and shifts in her chair, legs crossing in the process. Picking up the file, she extends it toward Mr. Dominic.

"Every experiment has test subjects and they aren't always the pick of the litter, if I may say so." Mr. Dominic takes the file, opening and flipping through its papers as if he doesn't already have it memorised already, before he closes it again. He's thorough for a reason, she supposes.

"No, I dare say they aren't." She rises from her chair, smoothing invisible wrinkles from her skirt. "I trust you'll keep atop the situation." She's had reservations about this particular _study_, as they call it that Rossum wanted to try out, but unfortunately it was not her place to question they're motives. Yet.

"Of course, ma'am." He nods, short and curt, his eyes flicking to the file cautiously. She wonders if he meant for her to catch that brief emotion. She doesn't dwell on that too long as he turns to leave, the sharp line of his suit cutting a path to her double doors.

A thought flashes through her head in that moment and she half turns back to the door, hand resting on her desk, her fingers curled around its edge. Tonight is their newest active's engagement and it cannot go wrong. "Mr. Dominic, one more thing."

"Yes, ma'am?"

"Remind Topher of Whiskey's engagement tonight and its particularities. We need this to go flawlessly."

Mr. Dominic's hand tightens on the door's handle and meets her eyes with his sharp blue ones. "I'll head down right away."

"Thank you, Mr. Dominic." She allows for the corner of her lips to curl upwards, and tilts her head, her hair falling across her shoulder.

He nods once again, opening the door, "I'll return as soon as the engagement begins." As soon as he steps out of her office, Adelle leans back against her desk for second. Looking down, she stares at the sleek design of her computer and sits down, pressing her back against the very expensive leather that covers her chair, and sighs. Her thoughts turn back to Carl William Craft, Alpha now; tonight is his first engagement with a partner: Whiskey. She's not sure why, but it fills her with dread. Besides his background, he's been the most problematic of the Actives thus far, and that is saying quite a lot. Now, with a partner, she's not sure just how he'll react to the new element. None of them are, and that's a problem, problem that can lead to complications. Adelle Dewitt is not particularly fond of complications so she does what she's learned to do to survive this business; she pushes it back. She'll deal with it when she has time for such frivolities. Until then, she turns to her computer and goes straight to the Rossum file.

She clicks it open, straightens her shoulder, and begins typing. She had opposed the use of criminals for the trials, feeling the technology was still too new, but she had been overruled. The burden of following orders was not just for Mr. Dominic, unfortunately.

Every experiment had less than desirable test subjects, as Mr. Dominic had said, and he was right. Alpha is just another test subject, just another cog in the machine. They'll just have to start to monitor the variables around him more carefully than before.

 

*

 

He watches with careful eyes as Blevins leads Alpha out. Whiskey is at their left with Johnson, heading into another van. They both look perfect; two perfect little dolls dressed up for party (and a kill). The Dollhouse wouldn't allow for anything less. It's almost sad how little he feels for these people— correction, these shells of people. They're just puppets now and have too many masters pulling at their delicate strings.

(One wrong tug and it's all over.)

Whiskey is chatting to her handler, all sweet smiles and sharp edges, the leather of her outfit molding her body into a shape made to please the eye. Doe eyes and killer legs, whatever the client wants, as usual. He's shut off the part that feels sorry for who these people used to be a long time ago, but sometimes, sometimes the things that they send these people to do, to be done to them—it's sick. He pushes the sentiment back. Empathy is not considered a survival trait for spies. 

Whiskey steps into the van and turns back to him, waving with her fingers, pink lips upturned into wry smirk. "Bye." But he doesn't wave back, doesn't even look at her, and the van door closes. His eyes are on Alpha, who slides up to the van and steps inside, smooth and confident, lips twisted in a not-smile. It's all part of the imprint, Laurence _knows_ this, but it feels wrong, skewed. _Real_. Like something is peeking out from under the imprint, from under Alpha.

He doesn't like it. 

As the door to Alpha's van closes, he catches Alpha's parting wink to him. It doesn't read shallow and _programmed_ like Whiskey's wave did. It has a weight behind it. Baleful and wrong.

Most of all, it felt like a warning. 

He doesn't like this at all.

 

* 

 

It goes off without a hitch, much to his relief. DeWitt and Dom would have his head if he had fucked this up, but hey, _that_ didn't happen. Topher is willing to call this a _good_ day. 

Okay, sure, Whiskey had come back quieter, and her heel had been broken sometime during the engagement, and Alpha was, well, Alpha, but no real damage done. (What's real in this place anyway? One keystroke and all the bad thoughts are gone, gone, gone.) Plus, he hates when they get all chatty. He doesn't mind some good conversation, oh no, but sometimes he just doesn't care about what _fun_ they had on their little adventures. (He should be having fun. Paint ball or even laser tag, but _no_, he just works, works, works. Where's the love?)

Slipping the wedges back into place, Topher chews on his lips, twirling as he goes back to his command center. He sits and spins in his chair for a couple seconds, letting his thoughts swirl and stew in his head, tapping his finger on the armrests. The diagnostics announce they're ready for him to work his magic and he grins. 

What they're attempting with Alpha is a whole new ball game (the default settings have to be hidden under so much banality) and he doubts even _she_ (a rose by any other name would still have thorns) had thought about this. The minute he thinks of her he makes himself forget, _oh irony_, and focuses back on _his_— because it's _his_ now— work.

Alpha could be a masterpiece. He wonders what the Dollhouse would want with a secret-secret ninja imprint under the Blank State, but he doubts that DeWitt would tell him even if he asked.

Sighing at being out of the loop, he lets his fingers do the walking on the keyboard, his brain dissecting and fine tuning every line of code that crosses his eyes. Topher smiles. 

Seriously, _masterpiece_. 

Every rose, no matter how perfect, has its thorns, she had said once. It's true, he's no idiot, but his thorns will be perfect too. 

The perfect Active. 

His creation. 

(How cool is that?)

 

*

 

_On the floor below Alpha looks up to where he had his treatment and frowns. His eyes wander across to Topher; Topher does the treatments. His frown deepens._

_The art teacher comes by and takes his attention away from the room up the stairs. She picks up his drawings and flips through them._

_"I can see you like fish, Alpha," she says, sweetly. "They're very nice."_

_He looks down at his drawings and looks for the fish. There are no fish. _

_Alpha looks up at the art teacher, "Thank you."_

_She puts the drawing back down on his tiny table and moves on. Going back to current drawing he finishes it with a last sweeping gesture, with a large show of teeth._

Alpha.

 

*

 

(As time passes, things change. 

Things _evolve_.)

 

*

 

Mr. Dominic bursts through the door with heavy strides and a set scowl on his face. He ignores her question about exactly what he's doing, except she knows he's not really ignoring her, he's a man on a mission. He picks up the remote control on the coffee table and turns the large screen in front of her desk in one quick move. 

"Mr. Dominic?" She demands, making sure to keep her voice reined in at the surprise from his uncharacteristic show of disregard to her office.

"Alpha's has gone of the grid." It's all he has to say and she's up and at his side, the crisp line of her blouse brushing against the grey line of his suit. 

"How did this _happened_?" She doesn't bother hiding the edge in her voice, her fists clenching at her side.

Dominic shakes his head, "We don't know yet. The client was distracted by some moron in a mesh shirt, Alpha reacted badly to being ignored and a fight ensued. When it was all over, we think Alpha was lost in the crowd and slipped out. Blevins lost a visual as well. We think he wandered down the alley." 

Adelle narrows her eyes, turning to Dominic, hands tight on her hips. "I would rather we not _think_, but _know_ Blevins, Mr. Dominic. We cannot have a rogue Active out there. Especially not _him_."

"I'm taking that into account, ma'am." He flips open his cell phone, a thin, grey contraption that blends perfectly with his suit, and places it at his ear.

"You right well better be." Adelle mutters, looking over at the screens in front her as he makes a call to the security team. 

"I don't care what you _guess_ he did, Blevins! I'm sending a retrieval team and next time I call you I want your first words to be 'we have him, sir', do you understand me?" It's a cold fire in his blue eyes and Adelle allows herself to admire his command of the situation. In that same minute he flips his phone shut and turns to her. "Blevins believes he's found Alpha's trail. I'm having the retrieval team meet him on route." 

"Very well, Mr. Dominic. Make the call." 

"Already done, ma'am. They're on their way." If she didn't know better she'd think that he was smirking in pride at being one step ahead of her. 

She only nods, reaching out to her phone and pressing a button. "Topher, my office. Now." 

They hear the normal chaos it takes Topher to answer the call and listen to his answer. "I know, I know! Um, and I'd like to take this time to say…" 

"Now, Topher!" She repeats and think she hears him yelp a little before the sounds of Topher scrambling about come through the speaker. 

Across from her, Dominic cross his arms, the corner of his mouth twitching. She feels like commenting on how he takes too much pleasure in ordering Topher around, especially when she orders Topher around, but it feels like a line she knows better than to cross, so she lets the amusement dance on her lips for only a brief moment. 

By the time Topher bounds in like a child on a sugar high, his hands waving around, his fingers drawing invisible patterns in the air and pulling up images on the screen on her wall. Adelle is resting against her desk, arms wrapped around her waist, watching the tight line of Mr. Dominic's shoulder as they listen to the retrieval team as they arrive on scene through the radio.

Topher is going on about his perfect system, bad security (earning a deadly glare from Mr. Dominic and stepping a safe distance away), and how you can't plan for twinks in mesh shirts when she pinches the bridge on her nose and cuts him off. "Topher, please. We need facts—helpful facts. Not your opinion on current fashion trends." 

"Yes, and the sooner the better." _For you_ is cut out Dominic's response, but Topher understands the delicacy in Mr. Dominic's statement as well as she does. 

Topher frowns for a second, reminding her of a put out child, before he begins spouting out his thoughts on the matter. "Well, besides thinking the _crazy_ thought that he didn't like where he was, which is _ridiculous_, because, heh, well I made sure of that, I can't be sure of why he went _all_ AWOL until I get him back in the chair and run a check on his brain patterns. A millions of things could have effected him. The brain is maze— a glorious and crazy maze, mind you— and it can have trap doors. Anything can spark a reaction and _whoosh_! Whole new things can start happening!" He's talking more with his hands than his mouth by now and that's never a good thing. Topher, bless his mind, needs a tighter leash than the Dollhouse itself. 

"I thought you were supposed to prevent that." Dominic states, accusingly, unamused at Topher's antics. 

"Well, _yeah_." Topher rolls his eyes like Dominic just asked the stupidest question ever and it makes Adelle wonder how long she can prevent her head of security from ringing the younger man's neck. 

"It _is_ what I do, but with all the tests we've been running on Alpha lately, and given his hidden default settings, it was only a matter of time before his brain chemistry started to react accordingly." He walks up to the large television screen and used the small keypad that rests beside it to manipulate the screen. He pulls up several images, one being Alpha's brain current brain patterns. "See, here! This little spike of blue right here," he presses his finger against the screen smudging the clean image with his finger, "that right there wasn't supposed to happen. It's not part of the imprint. It's Alpha." 

Adelle steps up close to the image and studies it, "And what does that mean, Topher?" 

Topher turns to her, eyes wide, lips pressed together, unsure. "Evolution, growth, adaptaion, a glitch. It could mean _anything_! Isn't that cool!?" He pauses and backtracks, eyes flitting between Adelle and Dominic, "You know, if it wasn't bad, unplanned and bad for the engagement. _Bad_!" He makes a show of shaking his finger.

Adelle stands in front of Topher, pausing his monologue, her voice holding no room for argument. "Can you fix it and make sure it doesn't happen again?" 

Behind her Mr. Dominic's phone rings and she can feel the scowl he directs to Topher over her shoulder. 

"Sure, no problemo. Just get him back to me and I'll work my magic," Topher stammers nervously, a tight smile blossoming on his face, looking behind her. Dominic is yelling orders and Adelle feels today for the first time they've finally reached a system. A way to work in sync. Something that had missing previously has just clicked into place. 

"They found him. They're on their way back." He steps up to her side and just looks at Topher. Topher sends another tight smile towards them and scurries out. 

"I'm just going to start setting up. Bye!" 

As the door closes behind Topher, Adelle straightens and turns to face Dominic. "You scare him more and more each day it seems." 

She holds back a jolt of surprise as he allows a quick smile to grace his face before it disappears behind the mask again. 

"He respects you more than he's scared of me." Dominic states, meeting her gaze and then moving back, leaving the statement behind in an almost moment of commarderie. "I'm heading up to meet the retrieval team." 

"Of course. I expect a full report before the night is over. And I want GPS locators put on all the Actives from now on." 

"Yes, ma'am." He makes his way out, a polite nod marking his exit.

As the door closes behind him, Adelle allows herself to release the tension that had accumulated in her back. Heading over to the liquor cabinet she goes to pour herself a scotch. Feeling the cool glass against her skin, Adelle closes her eyes and takes a long drink. One crisis  adverted tonight, but she feels they didn't quite so much miss the bullet rather that it grazed their shoulder with minimal damage. A forewarning.

From here on out they'll have to exact even more prudence in what they do. 

 

*

 

After he dismisses Alpha, Clifford Saunders follows the male Active's movements until Alpha disappears around the corner heading downstairs to the showers. Going to his pad, he makes notes that will later be added to Alpha's file. Not that anybody bothers to read his notes. He's sure Adelle is tired of his warnings and opinion about the treatment of the Actives. And Alpha is worrying him more and more as of late.

It's small things, almost imperceptible, but after every engagement, Alpha always seems just a little off. A little different. He's warned Adelle of over-using multiple imprints, but it's more than that. It's the way Alpha _moves_. They way his eyes are constantly taking everything around him—more like solider than a child. More like he was studying _them_.

Every child grows, he supposes, shaking his head. He's entirely overworked. Slipping his glasses off and wiping them on the handkerchief, he settles them back on his nose, plastering a smile on his face as he hears his door open.

"Doctor? They told me to come here." Whiskey's face is pure innocence and light and he waves her over. The smile is suddenly not so forced.

"Did they? What's wrong?" He pats the examining chair, like he does for his grand kids. 

"I feel asleep on the big couches. I told them I was just tired, but they told me to come up for a check up anyway." She frowns and he feels a little bad for her. Already only a few months in the Dollhouse and Whiskey is quite the star. He pats her hair gently and smiles. 

"Let's just make sure everything is okay. All right, Whiskey?"

"All right." 

"Now, why don't you tell me about your day?" He asks, pulling out his stethoscope and presses it against her back, telling her to breath in deep. 

"Me and Victor had lunch together, he shared his cookie with me…"

 

*

 

(To every experiment there's a catalyst.)

 

*

 

"She's going to be trouble," he states, arms crossed, frown set. Their newest little doll has just been sent to Topher to be wiped and he doesn't like it one bit. Too much weight travels with this one. 

DeWitt raises her eyebrow at him curiously. "Is that your professional assessment, Mr. Dominic?" She sounds amused, teasing, but hell, it could just be the accent. 

"If I may be perfectly frank, ma'am…" 

"Please. It's what I keep you around for, after all. " DeWitt waves her hand towards him, as she angles her chair towards him. Her legs are crossed and her hand are curling over the edges of the leather arm rests. She looks every bit the queen of this fucked up little hive. And, yeah, she's amused, if he's reading the gleam in her eye correctly.

"It's what my gut tells me." This new recruit, if you could even call her that, has been a thorn in Rossum's side for a while now and if it were up to him he'd have her shipped to another house. Rossum, though, still chose to send her _here_, to this specific house. Why, he wonders, but he doesn't dwell on it. After all, the NSA sent him to this house too. So far it's proved to be exactly what Rossum promotes: fantasies made realities; giving people what they need. But for what purpose? Laurence is still unsure of the exact purpose of the Dollhouse, but every day he gets closer. 

Some days he feels he's getting _too_ close.

He might be a spy, but if he's honest, he's also grown almost fond of this place. Twisted as it may seem, but not all the people here are evil like the NSA higher ups would like their agents to believe. Hell, most are just normal people, doing their job, unware of why they take care of these shells. Most. Except her. DeWitt knows the endgame, maybe not all of it, but enough. She's no fool. She's truly believes in what Rossum is doing. If only he knew what that really was.

DeWitt nods. "Caroline is a very important young woman for us, Mr. Dominic. We've had quiet a history after all." 

"I'm aware, ma'am, which is precisely why I'm concerned about her placement in this house. Too much personal history." He levels a looks at her, reminding her that he knows exactly what has occurred between Caroline and the Dollhouse. Between Caroline and Adelle DeWitt, as well. 

"Are you implying I will allow myself to be compromised, Mr. Dominic?" She re-crosses her legs, leaning forward, a half smile playing on her lips. 

"Not at all, ma'am." He shakes his head, treading carefully now, "But you hired me to give you my professional assessment and I believe that Caroline—" 

"Echo, now." She corrects him.

"Yes, _Echo_," he nods. "I believe Echo will be a problem." 

"Your assessment is noted, Mr. Dominic." It's a dismissal if he ever heard one. He leaves the office and heads down, pausing on the landing to watch the floor below. 

All the Actives are there, milling about, quiet and meek like little mice. He finds Alpha at the gym, jogging at an easy pace. Even in this state, empty and obedient, he reads differently to Dominic compared to the others. Then as if he felt Dominic's stare, Alpha looks up and meets his gaze. The doll looks away first, but there was a flash of something that Dominic caught in that moment. Something that makes his stomach tighten. 

He stalks his way back to his office. This house, it's just full of trouble.

 

* 

 

_She's new. Walks around with tiny, quiet steps and big eyes that have questions in them. _

_She's smooth. He bumped into her and her skin—so smooth, like the sheets in the pods. _

_She's special. It's in her big eyes, so full of questions. Dark and deep._

_She's perfect. And_ his. 

 

*

 

"Dr. Saunders has raised some concerns about Alpha. In his professional opinion, Alpha's behaviour has been becoming increasing erratic.", she pronounces as she leads Mr. Dominic through the upper tiers of the house. 

He scoffs, "I've been saying the same thing for months."

Adelle gives Dominic a side long glance. "My point exactly." 

"What do you want to us to do?" He asks, stepping in front of her, as he opens the door to her office. 

"I want you and Dr. Saunders to hand in a report on why I should put Alpha in the Attic." She replies smoothly, smirking at the surprised look on Dominic's face. The door closes behind her, Dominic on the other side and Adelle chuckles. It seems she can still surprise him.

She's not even in her office for five minutes when Topher calls her. He sounds partially strung out, partially terrified, and talking so fast he's tripping over his words so badly that she barely catches them. What she does understand does little to put her at ease. 

_Alpha. Wacko. Slashes. Blood. Whiskey._

It is quite possible that her conversation with Mr. Dominic today came too late, she thinks, but she cannot muse on that fact now, there are things that need to be taken care of. 

 

*

 

_This is not good, so not good_, Topher thinks as his fingers fly across the screen trying to figure out what the hell just happened. Dolls are _not_ supposed to go all _Psycho_ on other dolls, that is _most certainly_ is not in the programming. Okay, sure some imprints are a little iffy—people are fucking weird—but he thinks he would have remembered if he had made Norman fucking Bates. 

Typing faster, he continues running the diagnostics check on the wedges. 

This is not supposed to happen. 

As Belvins pushes Alpha into the chair, Topher only thinks: _this is so, so bad._

 

*

 

Dr. Saunders rushes out of his office, after doing his best to calm Whiskey, to ask Topher _what the hell just happened._

He's been wary of Alpha, but he never thought—he stops, hearing the screams and begins running towards the Chair Room. As he reaches the doors, they swing open, it's Alph—

 

*

 

(For something to begin again, it first has to end.)

 

*

 

There's blood. Everywhere. Dominic signals the team to move faster down the corridors of the house, looking for any survivors. There's only blood and bodies, it's almost as if Alpha left them a trail to follow. The thought that it might actually be that is sickening, but the more he sees, the more he's sure of it. Still, Dominic follows it. 

It took them too long to get the squad ready, he thinks, rushing down the halls. After he made sure to lock Adelle and Topher in her office, the safest place in the building, he joined the squad, but it took them too long to get together. In no way they had been prepared for something like this. His mistake, he can attest. That's definitely going to be rectified after this though.

Later, because right now he has one focus: Alpha. Finding him and _stopping_ him. 

No more Attic for the doll, just a bullet in the head.

He and the squad follow the trail of bloody footprints. They stop in front of the shower and he can't help but think of bread crumbs. All this blood, all these bodies—poor fools—read like bait. Bread crumbs to lead them where Alpha wants them, but they have no choice but to follow, Alpha already pulled out his tracker and this trail is their best bet. 

Signalling the rest of the squad to prepare for a confrontation, he nods to the second in command and they storm the room. 

It's quiet. 

No sound expect for the light drops of water.

No sign that anyone has been in the room. 

Except for the metallic smell of blood.  

As they surround the shower area, Dominic and his men draw their guns and sim for the centre of the showers. 

Half a dozen lay Actives slashed and strewn across the tiled floor like discarded dolls when a child is tried of playing with them. The irony hits Dominic with a wave of disgust and pity—these fools, thinking this place had been a way out from their miserable lives, a place to forget and be taken care of. Idiots. 

And there in the middle, sitting quietly in the middle of the showers, was Echo, little rivers of blood drifting around her, her eyes wide and at a loss. 

"They won't wake up." 

_No, they won't_, he thinks, irritated at her dumbstruck tone. Glowering at the men around him, he orders two of them to get her out of there as he signals the rest to follow him. 

Alpha can't be too far behind. They might still be able to catch him.

Leading the squad out of the showers and continuing the sweep of the building, he can't help but think:

_Why didn't he kill her?_

 

* 

 

_He's broken. That's what they think. He laughs—laughs, laughs, laughs, because he's broken, he fell off wall and crashed into the ground and broke. But he stood up again and walked away. _

_Sliced and diced. _

_He's broken. He laughs. _

_He rather likes it that way. _

_Humming an old nursery rhyme as he walks down the street, he smiles, blood coating his finger tips like syrups. Maple, caramel, chocolate—they use chocolate like blood in the movies sometimes; movies can be stored on mirco film, 8mm, it's a gun too—Guns are messy, we don't like them, honey, strawberry. He feels like pancakes. _

_It's all a matter of time now. He's free now. Of everything. The most dangerous man is a truly free man, he-they-him read somewhere._

_Soon, he'll free her too. _

_"Jack and Jill went up the hill…" he sings to the wrong tune, the blood in his fingers dripping onto the sun-soaked cement._

 

* 

 

Adelle looks out of her window and tightens her arms around her waist. What happened tonight can never happen again. She will not _allow it_ to happen it again. Shivering, she feels a chill crawl up her back on a thin spider's legs, it's a chill that has nothing to so do with being cold. _They have a very dangerous enemy out there_. She tightens her arms around herself, looking for any extra degrees of warmth.

There's movement behind her; she refuses to feel fear and steadies herself. When a strong hand rests on her shoulder, she doesn't allow herself to relax under its sure weight. 

"We will fix this, Adelle." Her name sounds odd coming from Dominic's lips, but that's only because she's sure this is the first time she's ever heard him use it. Appropriate time, if any, she muses. 

"Thank you, Laurence." She turns under his hand to face him. In her heels they're always at eye level and she catches his eyes, cold and blue, but she only feels warmth in them. She feels her lips curl at the edges. She has the sudden urge to close the gap between them and press a hard kiss against his lips just to see if they're just as warm. It's the need for any sort contact after a trauma, she's well aware of that, but the want is so strong it almost overpowers her.

"We cannot allow anyone else know what has occurred here. For all intents and purpose, we have succeeded tonight. Alpha is dead. Only people with the highest security level will know the truth." She swallows, not looking away from his gaze, letting the order carry in her voice.

He nods and steps back, understanding, and his hand slips from her shoulder, his fingers trailing the edge of her blouse for a second. Adelle notices how much colder it's become once again. "What shall we do with Saunders? Letting out what happened to him will garner attention from the other houses. It will leave us open for attack." 

Adelle presses her lips together. They feel dry and cracked. "Tell Topher to prep the chair," she pauses, straightening at Dominic's look, "and Whiskey."

"Ma'am?"

"Alpha, it seems, has left us one last gift. We need a doctor, Mr. Dominic. And we have a broken doll. A serendipitous accident if I ever saw one."

Dominic gives a sharp nod, "Ma'am." 

Adelle watches as he heads back towards the door, his stride short and speaks just as he opens the door.

"We will get through this, Mr. Dominic. I will not allow my house to fall."

"No, we will not." 

He leaves her office, purely ergonomic movements as usual, the door closing with a sharp click. The room feels large and quite now, below her assistants have been called into in  to help put the house back in order, but right now in this office, Adelle feels the cracks of in the glass starting to grow.

 

* 

 

(He doesn't know it but when Alpha slashes Whiskey's face, trying to make his Echo the best, Alpha opens a door. 

One nobody wanted opened.

Thing is nobody knows it, nobody notices, not even those who are stepping through it.)


End file.
